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“He can’t. I won’t agree to this.” Evelyn paced back and forth. Her hands wrung together.
“I’m afraid it matters little,” Markum said. He watched her pace and did nothing to interfere. It was how she always processed big news when they were younger. To have tried to comfort her would have caused scandal. “He’s looking for a suitor in high social standing.”
“But everyone you’ve said, they would want heirs. Markum, my vows–”
“Are no longer relevant. You were denounced when you were named the Herald of Andraste. As far as they’re concerned, you’ve no title with the Chantry anymore. Your studies in Ostwick have already been delegated to others.”
Evelyn stopped pacing to face Markum. He avoided her gaze like he used to when he felt guilty. It added to the weight sinking in her chest. It shouldn’t have been a surprise that her father would return to his mission of marrying her off.
“I can’t… I can’t go back to that,” Evelyn said. Her stomach churned from unwanted memories. The sour scents, lingering touches, heavy gazes; they all felt too present. “I won’t go back. I’ll stay in Ferelden if I have to, Orlais even.”
Markum furrowed his brow as he asked, “Where would you go, what would you do after this is all over?”
“I’ll figure something out. If I even survive to that point.”
In the shadows, Cullen’s heart stuttered at the thought of Evelyn dying. He never let himself think of it because he simply couldn’t.
He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop for as long as he did. Had it been any other couple, he would have continued on his walk. But this involved Evelyn… and Markum. The nobleman was supposedly an old friend from her childhood. Even if she welcomed him with open arms, Cullen couldn’t shake the grip of uneasiness. He noticed all too well the roaming gazes, pleading looks, and lingering touches.
“Lynny, it won’t get to that point.” Markum moved to place a hand on Evelyn’s shoulder. “You’re going to survive.”
“We don’t know that.” Evelyn’s nose scrunched as her brow furrowed. She pulled away from Markum and crossed her arms. She started closing herself off but this was when she needed to be held the most. This was something Cullen knew.
“It won’t. There’s… another option.”
There was a moment of silence. Evelyn’s eyes were fixed on Markum, waiting for him to continue.
“Over the years, my family has gained substantial public influence…”
“Markum…”
Neither Evelyn or Cullen needed Markum to finish to know he was suggesting himself. It felt like a stone had dropped in Cullen’s stomach. Of course she was expected to marry within the nobility, someone with a good enough title. He was foolish to not think of that. He knew it was too much to ask.
“A contract has already been drafted.” Markum’s voice almost sounded timid.
“You haven’t signed it have you?” Evelyn asked quickly. “Why is it only now that I’m learning about all of this?”
“I left the Marches as soon as your father presented the final proposal. I wanted to talk to you in person before anything happened.”
“The final— this is rich. We can’t do this. I won’t do this.”
“Lynny, please. At the very least, think about it. It would be the kindest marriage for you. We’ve grown up around each other, been there for each other. We were each other’s— I know you Lynny. And you know me.”
Evelyn shook her head, a self-deprecating smile pulling at her mouth. Her eyes prickled in the chill air. Just when she thought she had escaped, she was being dragged back in.
Cullen pleaded with himself to leave. He shouldn’t have been listening in the first place. Evelyn was always so guarded about her past and here he was spying on it. But jealousy gnawed at him. Markum was there with her throughout those years. Of course they would have history. Of course he would know her in a way Cullen never would. They were from the same noble sphere.
“Even so—” Evelyn’s voice cracked. “Even so, you would require heirs, would you not?”
“... eventually… yes…”
“… I couldn’t…”
“Lynny.”
“No.”
“Lyn.”
“I won’t be used like that anymore.”
“Evelyn, just think about it.
“No!”
“Just, wait!”
“Let go!”
At this, Cullen stepped out into the garden. He didn’t bother to hide the concern that drew his brows together and narrowed his eyes. Markum and Evelyn froze when they saw him. Markum’s grip on her wrist loosened, and she pulled away. Perhaps subconsciously, Evelyn shifted closer to Cullen as she rubbed her wrist. Markum eyed Cullen before straightening his jacket.
“Commander Cullen. How convenient,” Markum almost sneered.
“Inquisitor. My lord,” Cullen started. “I heard shouting. Is everything all right?”
Markum all but glared at Cullen. Cullen returned the same. With Evelyn though, she wouldn’t look at him. He knew her mind was racing against itself. She crossed her arms again and slightly hunched her shoulders. He nearly reached out to hold her.
“All is well, Commander. A heated discussion, perhaps. Nothing more,” Markum said, trying to wave Cullen off. He knew of the Commander's affections. It’s not like he hid them well, and no one could blame him. But Evelyn was a noblewoman at the end of the day. A farm boy like him would never understand.
“It doesn’t seem that simple,” Cullen said. A silent challenge surged between the two. Disregarding Markum, Cullen turned his attention to Evelyn. “Inquisitor?”
Evelyn’s eyes were miles away. When she finally looked at Cullen, her eyes glistened. Her chest hardly moved with her shallow breaths. Maker knew she was holding herself together by a thread.
“...Yes. All is… well.” Her words were short. “It’s fortunate you showed up. I was hoping to review some reports and field notes with you.”
“Of course, Inquisitor.”
“At this hour?” Markum uncrossed his arms and tilted his head, his nose scrunching.
“No rest for the wicked, my lord,” Cullen said, barely hiding his contempt.
“Lynny,” Markum pleaded.
“Until tomorrow, Markum.” Evelyn turned to walk away.
“Evelyn.”
“Tomorrow.”
Cullen followed Evelyn as she headed out of the gardens. Looking back, Cullen saw the disdain welled in the noble’s eyes. Markum didn’t like Cullen, and the feeling was mutual. He claimed to know Evelyn and her to know him, but he only knew a mask of her.
+++
Cullen locked the doors once they were inside his office. Evelyn sighed in relief at the gesture. Her nerves were eating her alive. She hung her head as she leaned on Cullen’s desk. He removed his armor down to his tunic and leaned on the desk next to Evelyn. His hand brushed against hers.
They had kissed once on the battlements and that was all. With all of the missions and work, there was little time to discuss what they were. Everything seemed so sure in the moment. It was just them in their own part of Thedas. Now, Cullen feared it was only a moment of infatuation from her. He wouldn’t blame her if she were to change her mind after everything. It only made too much sense. But still, he cared for her.
“How much did you hear?” Evelyn asked softly as she glanced at Cullen from the side of her eye.
“Probably more than I should have.” He couldn’t lie to her.
Evelyn shook her head with a sad chuckle. She moved her hand to rest over his, and his heart sang. He could see her replaying the situation in her mind. Her eyes flitted around the room, never landing on a single spot for long.
Cullen carefully turned his hand over so their fingers could interlock, a silent reassurance he tried to send. Her hand, always cold, was impossibly soft with the amount of time she spent in the harsh weather. Her calloused fingertips had the most noticeable texture because of her bowstring.
Another moment of silence passed over them. Evelyn’s grip tightened as she moved their intertwined hands to her lap, her other hand holding them together. Cullen’s hand now encompassed in a cool touch, his heart melted from warm affection. It fluttered more when she rested her head on his shoulder. He, in turn, rested his head on hers.
“Are you all right?” Cullen asked.
“I don’t think I am.” Evelyn answered. “I don’t know what to think, what to do. I should have known better. I thought I could escape arranged marriages by joining the Chantry. Of course it wouldn’t last.
“Arranged marriages, the stuff of nightmares. Do you wish to marry at all?”
“It’s not that I don’t wish to. The thought can be pleasing. I just don’t wish to as a political move or business deal. To bear children out of duty or expectation, I can’t imagine. I foolishly thought taking vows, or being the Herald or Inquisitor at the least, would have changed things.”
“You’re hardly foolish.”
“I almost believe you,” Evelyn chuckled. His voice was a comfort to her. His whole presence was, really. It eased her mind ever so slightly. “What about you? Did you ever see yourself marrying?”
Cullen could feel a small blush over his face. It was only daydreams. Silent prayers.
“No. Not before… I was always focused on my studies in the Chantry. After the Blight and Kirkwall, I never gave it any thought.”
“And now?”
“Now, I’m not used to it being possible. I didn’t think about after until… I never thought… well… it has become easier to imagine lately.”
Evelyn pushed off his desk. Their hands broke apart. Cullen watched closely as she moved in front of him, between his legs. Her arms wrapped around his neck and he could smell lavender on her skin. He did not hesitate to pull her closer and drop his head to nuzzle into her. Maker, there was nothing he wouldn’t do for this woman.
“You’re wonderful.” he whispered into her hair.
“I want us to be together,” Evelyn whispered back.
Cullen’s heartbeat quickened and stopped simultaneously. His breath caught. He didn’t want to move lest he wake from this dream. Could the Maker be this kind?
“Unless you don’t then– then forgive me– I didn’t mean to–” Evelyn stammered as she retreated. Cullen must have frozen for a second too long.
“No! I do… want to be with you.” Cullen pulled her back. “I just… didn’t think it was possible.”
Evelyn let out a light laugh. “That’s what you said on the battlements.”
They rested their foreheads together. Cullen was becoming overwhelmed with giddiness but also worry.
“Are you certain?” He asked. “With everything that has happened. With what you’ve mentioned about your past, my past even. I don’t want to add more burden to your shoulders than you already carry.”
“You could never.” Evelyn smiled at him while resting a hand on his cheek.
“What of…” Cullen held her hand to his cheek.
“I’m not going back to Ostwick. I only want this. I want us.”
“As do I.”
+++
Markum paced Skyhold long after Evelyn left the gardens. He watched as the Commander and her entered his office. He seethed when she didn’t leave and the candlelight dimmed to nothing. Hatred coursed through him as he glared at the tower. She was a Trevelyan, a noblewoman. She couldn’t see the steps she needed to take.
He removed the contract from his pocket and found an inkwell and a pen. It was for her own good. The raven would be sent out in the morning.
Evelyn would forgive him eventually.